


National Redhead Day

by mutemail



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 01:34:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21330070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mutemail/pseuds/mutemail
Summary: Aziraphale mulls over what he loves most about Crowley, mainly the gorgeous mess of hair on his head.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 42





	National Redhead Day

**Author's Note:**

> I crunched to get this done in an hour before midnight EST because November 5th is national love your red hair day and I decided to make this my first ineffable husbands work so be easy with me please ♡ I'm rather nervous to start writing for a new fandom and all but I hope this is fluffy enough for everyone's liking! Comments/kudos are appreciated ♡

There are an innumerable amount of things about Crowley that Aziraphale adores. Swinging hips in ever-so-tight jeans, the hypnotic underlyings of that sinfully golden gaze, and the roughness of the pads of Crowley’s fingers skittering across the expanses of his bare stomach are amongst his favorites. A long-standing and cherished aspect of his beloved has always been the charming red locks that tumble effortlessly across bony shoulders. No matter the length, Aziraphale has forever been enchanted by each twisting strand that he could almost accuse of having minds of their own. In braids or in graceful spikes, Crowley’s red hair has an unspoken claim at the top of Aziraphale’s _Things I Love About You_ list.

He slides his fingers to tuck a stray bit of hair behind Crowley’s ear, his eyes washing over the slumbering form that is trapped in his arms. The first hints of sunlight have stretched themselves over the buildingtops of Soho to make their way trickling in Azirphale’s window, past the beige curtains, and scatter themselves across the entangled bodies on the bed. Crowley’s never been much of an early riser but that’s more than alright by Aziraphale’s standards. It gives him a precious bit of time in the morning where he allows himself to trace over each individual freckle and eyelash that Crowley has to offer him. There are of course imperfection, as any creature holds, but he can’t help but grow fond of each and every one without an ounce of reservation. No many how many eternal sunrises he may face, it seems as though each day he discovers something new.

By the time the sun has risen above the shop and the light has finally befallen their faces, Crowley has had his fill of sleep and begins to crack open his eyes. Aziraphale hasn’t moved in that time, still caught up in his mind with a foolish smile on his lips.

“Enjoying the view, angel?” Crowley shifts away to stretch out his arms, cracking his back and fingers as he does so. Aziraphale lets out a small breath of contentment.

“Ever so much, dear.”

For so long he’d kept himself from enjoying this, from dipping his hands in and never letting go. How many sunrises had he given up? How many times could he have kissed Crowley’s temple with a smile and laugh? Too many to dwell on. Aziraphale’s fingers find themselves tangled in Crowley’s hair as they sink back into the comforts of one another. It’s a beautiful day.


End file.
